


i've only wrapped two fucking presents

by vavafroome (spaceboy_niko)



Series: twelve days of ficmas [3]
Category: Cycling RPF
Genre: Implied Relationships, M/M, Masturbation, Non-Penetrative Sex Toys, Secret Santa, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:27:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27995238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceboy_niko/pseuds/vavafroome
Summary: on the third day of christmas, sam bewley opens his presents early.
Relationships: George Bennett/Sam Bewley
Series: twelve days of ficmas [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2045978
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	i've only wrapped two fucking presents

**Author's Note:**

> what's this? niko writing about george? again? it's a christmas miracle
> 
> promise there'll be less porn in the next few instalments (and then there will be more but it's the thought that counts) because it's hot as fuck and i don't even want to think about sitting close to another human let alone sex
> 
> (title is from happy holidays, you bastard by blink-182)

It’s Dan’s idea to do something a bit Christmassy on the podcast.

“Boys, we’ve got one livestream left for the year,” he announces once they’re done recording a weekly episode.

Sam whistles. Sure, he wants the year to be over and done with, but it’s come up really bloody quick.

“We should do something for Christmas. Or whatever non-denominational holiday the folks might be celebrating,” he amends. “Two other blokes, two presents, you get to open your presents live on stream because you’re on Santa Dan’s nice list.”

“Opening shit on stream doesn’t sound like a present to me,” George says.

“Ah, we’ll keep it PG, safe for work, all that shite,” Dan answers dismissively.

Sam discreetly opens up a new tab behind the Zoom call and begins researching.

* * *

Sam is quite proud of what he ends up with - a big glossy reprint of an old vaguely-erotic cycling advert for George, and a selection of pretentious coffees for Jonesy.

He sends the two packages in very different directions, and waits.

His gift from George arrives first - he knows it's from George because George texts him.

> _Tracker says your present's arrived today, is it lying to me?_

He confirms to George, and waits for Dan's, hoping that Australia Post follows through and everything arrives before their livestream date.

Another box arrives, with no message from Dan or George. He takes a photo of it on his doorstep and sends it on their group chat.

> _Which of you boys sent me this?_

There's no reply, but his phone buzzes with a call from George instantly.

"That's from me as well," George says before Sam can open his mouth. "Don't open it on stream."

"Why?"

"It breaks Jonesy's safe for work rule. I don't give a shit if you don't wait til Christmas to open it. Just don't open it on stream," George repeats emphatically.

"Shit, George, okay."

The call ends, and he's got a message from Dan.

> _Not from me, mate. Maybe you've got a secret admirer?_

Sam is curious now - he tosses up the idea of opening it now just to satisfy himself, but he ultimately decides he's going to open it as soon as the stream is over.

He writes _NOT FOR STREAM_ on the box in Sharpie, and waits.

* * *

Wrangling open the boxes with one arm in a gargantuan cast is is so incredibly fucking difficult, but once he crosses that bridge live on stream, Sam finds out that Dan has very kindly gifted him a copy of _The Ethical Slut_ , an incredibly chunky book he's never read and honestly doesn't intend to read, to help with his Tinder misadventures.

George has gotten him a bottle of some French alcohol he doesn’t recognise.

“It’s from the region of France where you crashed this year,” George explains cheerfully. “Not a bad little tipple.”

He cracks open the bottle amidst the chuckles and has a taste, and it’s one of those alcohols you bring out at the end of a dinner party as a last-ditch attempt to impress, but not in a bad way.

It’s a pretty lighthearted stream from there, Sam switching back to his beer after he finishes his glass of George’s present, and the thought of the other box sits in the back of his mind until he can finally turn off his mic and camera.

If there were some form of cycling OHS, they wouldn’t particularly care how he opens packages, but the way he opens George’s other box is definitely an unsafe work practice - he holds it between his knees, because he’s got limited grip with his left hand, and uses one arm of a pair of scissors, the other blade _precariously_ close to his crotch. He manages to get it open and keep himself in one piece, and finds another box and a card inside.

> _Dear Bewls,_
> 
> _Don’t know which wrist you jack off with, but Murphy’s law says it’s the one you fucked up. Hope this helps._
> 
> _Love GB_

The bastard has even drawn a little heart after his initials.

Sam’s embarrassed just opening the smaller box - it’s minimalist in the way that boxes from companies with _discreet packaging_ is - and slides out the contents to reveal something that looks like a fleshlight, but less gimmicky and more serious-looking black matte, and a bottle of water-based lube. 

“What the fuck, George?” he says aloud to himself.

Sam isn’t left-handed. George knows this.

George either doesn’t know his right from his left, or he doesn’t know which wrist Sam’s broken, or most likely just needed an excuse to mail Sam a sex toy.

Sam examines it, turns it over in his hand, discovers a button and presses it to see what it does and is startled when it begins to buzz. It takes far too many clicks to turn off, and he takes the whole box to his room, determined to ignore it for now.

He does a terrible job of ignoring it.

It’s an intimidating looking contraption to stick his cock into, but he does, slicking himself and the toy up and sliding it on. It fits just over halfway down his shaft, and he lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. He tries just moving it at first, the grip tighter than his hand would be, but curiosity gets the better of him once again and he clicks the button.

The sensation is fairly tame to begin with, a gentle uniform thrum along the whole length of the toy. It’s nice, it’s good, and Sam could easily get off to it on a night where he’s too tired for anything more than a sandwich and a wank, in that order. But tonight he’s curious, and a little buzzed from the drinks he’s had, so he clicks it again.

The vibrations feel like they roll up the length of it now, from shaft to tip, slow and even-pressured. Another click makes it faster, and then faster still, until the vibrations concentrate at the tip of his cock and he’s panting with every movement of his hand.

Sam can’t hold on much longer, the stimulation nearly too much as it buzzes hard over his tip and caresses the rest of the length, and he manages a couple more thrusts before he’s coming with a low groan, milking it out, riding the vibrations until it hurts to go any longer.

A few more clicks, and it’s off, and Sam grimaces at the feeling of his come in the sleeve as he slides himself out. He’s not really sure what to do with it now, so he just leaves it in his bathroom sink with the feeling he’s going to regret it later.

He texts George _You’re an asshole for getting me that. Fuck you._

He’s not expecting a photo in reply - of George sitting up against his headboard, with a similar device over his cock, holding it smugly, fingers lingering over the buttons.

> _Obviously I’m thinking of you while I do this. Glad you enjoyed it._

Sam groans. George is going to be the death of him, even if it is only a little death.


End file.
